SOCHI, RUSSIA—As the end neared — literally for the Russian men’s hockey team, figuratively for these Olympics — the crowd finally began to act out.

A Russian audience is hard to figure. They embrace half the game — the half when they’re winning. When things go wrong, they withdraw. The camera continued to pan through the crowd, catching thumbs up and smiles. As soon as it flashed past, everyone slumped back in their chairs.

They’d been quiet for most of the afternoon as the Finnish team — a collection of professional third- and fourth-liners — beat the boldface names of Russia into submission.

It was 3-1. A minute left. All but over.

In that minute, the crowd began to whistle — Euro-booing. The whistling got louder. The Bolshoy was ringing with it.

You couldn’t hear it finish on the ice. You only saw the winners throw their arms up. Finland goes on to play Sweden in the semis.

The 100 or so Finnish fans spread around the arena jumped out of their seats. Everyone else was sitting, whistling.

Many hit the exits immediately. Most waited to see what their team would do.

After the handshakes, the Russian team stood around at centre ice uncertainly. They weren’t discussing things. They were only staring at each other dumbly. The whistling softened. The Russians finally decided to raise their sticks once in salute. A few applauded. Many more began whistling again, full volume this time.

As they left the ice, some fans yelled. Others shook their fists. The Russians blew right by them.

They came here carrying a country’s hope. They leave having been jeered out of their own Games by their own fans. It was announced afterward that the players will leave Thursday to return to their professional clubs. The biggest stars at this thing can’t be bothered to stay until last orders.

It was a low moment, and leaves you wondering how different Vancouver might have felt if Team Canada had blown it.

Most would not speak in the mixed zone. Goaltender Sergei Bobrovsky stopped, probably because he had the least to feel bad about. The starter, Semyon Varlamov, let in all three Finnish goals (and two of them were brutal). Varlamov was pulled midway through the second period. If he has any brains, he didn’t bother taking off his equipment before heading to the airport.

“I feel it disappointed,” Bobrovsky said in English. “Empty inside.”

He’s channelling a whole country there.

Before this started, Alex Ovechkin was asked what a hockey win in Russia would mean.

“Mean gold only cost 50 billion,” he said.

Great line. It sounds pretty damned stupid now.

Without hockey gold — or any other colour — what did $50 billion buy you then? Nothing. From a performance standpoint for Russia, this Games is a failure.

This used to be a superpower. Sochi was supposed to signal that they’re heading in that direction again.

Instead, they’re getting bent over by a country that’s made a sport of humiliating their far larger neighbour for years.

“We are a team who believes,” aging Finnish hero Teemu Selanne said. That was the essence of it. They believed. Instead, the Russians preened. There’s a difference.

There are three days remaining until the Olympic flame is extinguished here. But that was it.

The elimination of the hockey team at the first real hurdle is the effective end of this Olympics as a Russian concern. They hoped to dominate everywhere here, but what they needed was hockey.

Against quality opposition, they could manage only four goals in three games. Lacking any sort of cohesion or plan, they spent their time trying to connect wire-to-wire passes or deke their way through whole teams.

On the big ice, that was never going to work. Gifted a series of thoroughbreds, Russian coach Zinetula Bilyaletdinov formed them into a mule train. Their biggest stars — Ovechkin and Evgeni Malkin — disappeared. The stage was set for an oaf like Alexander Radulov to dominate, with predictable outcomes.

Afterward, Bilyaletdinov showed up to his press conference looking as if he’d just been handed a note containing the time and place of his death. And who knows? Maybe he had.

“What future, if any, do you see for your own work and for your coaching staff? Because, you know, your predecessor was eaten alive after the Olympics …”

“Well then, eat me alive right now …”

“No, I mean …”

“Eat me, and I won’t be here any more.”

Bilyaletdinov batted every substantial question in his own language away. The ones in English he purposely misunderstood. He looked as if he was seriously considering wading into the audience and stabbing someone.

When it was put to him that, without a medal in hockey, this Olympics must be considered a failure for Russia, he bristled.

He went into an unusually lengthy answer about the beauty of the venues and the passion of the volunteers and the commitment of the fans and … it went on like that for a while.

By the end, you almost believed him.

“Will you stay until the end of the Games?” someone asked.

“No,” Bilyaletdinov spat back. “I’d rather leave.”

He’ll want to get to his embarkation point early. He’ll have plenty of company on the way out of town.

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